


Blood, Horn and Bone

by NeurotropicAgentX



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Beforus, Bloodplay, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Chucklevoodoos, Extra Treat, F/M, Handcuffs, Pre-The Incident, Rainbow drinker, Rare Pair, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 16:27:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7322419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeurotropicAgentX/pseuds/NeurotropicAgentX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Porrim broke away so she could place her fangs against the pulse in Kurloz’s throat. A shudder ran through his body. ‘Motherfucking do it, rainbowbitch,’ he snarled at her. ‘Don’t tease like I can’t take it.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood, Horn and Bone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tanglelore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanglelore/gifts).



> This was the rare pair I never knew I wanted.
> 
> Obligatory shout-out to my awesome editor for all her invaluable assistance.

They didn’t meet face-to-face very often. The twelve of them were definitely friends, but there were sub-groups that were more tightly knit than others. Besides, everyone had their own lives to live and if they needed to talk all together, it was easier to do it over a husktop. However, once in while they all met to exchange gossip, catch up on each other’s lives, and generally hang out as a crew.

‘Porrim!’ Aranea called out as she arrived. ‘So nice to see you, have you had new tattoos added since the last time I saw you?’

Porrim smiled. ‘Just a couple. Do you want to see them?’

Aranea laughed lightly. ‘Maybe later. I have to tell you about the latest thing I heard about culling laws. Her Gracious Compassion has been busy these last few perigees.’

‘Don’t let her roepe you into anotter boring lecture,’ Meenah said. She came up and slung an arm over Aranea’s shoulder. ‘Lookin good, Porrim. Did you hake that outfin yourshellf?’ 

Porrim smoothed one hand over the lines of her dress. ‘Yes, thanks for noticing. My offer to make one for you still stands.’

Meenah gave a very pointy smile. ‘Nah, your style doesn’t quite suit my clamorous image.’ Porrim shrugged. Meenah looked over her shoulder. ‘Aw shell, looks pike the loser brigade’s arrived.’

Aranea looked over and frowned. ‘That’s not a very nice thing to say.’ Porrim noticed that Aranea didn’t disagree with Meenah’s statement. She murmured an excuse and went over to greet Kankri.

‘I just think you should be more aware of your cold-privilege. I know you don’t identify as a troll, and I think it’s very brave of you to share that part of yourself, but it doesn’t change the fact that you were mis-raised,’ Kankri’s voice briefly dropped as he muttered, ‘trigger warning mis-raising,’ before continuing with the rest of his lecture, ‘…as a sea dweller. That sort of thing leaves a lasting impression and a certain awareness of where your behaviour comes from, when you use slurs (trigger warning, mention of slurs) against warmer-identifying trolls, can only help prevent you from microaggressing in the future.’ 

Porrim intended to interject before Cronus could goad Kankri into another lengthy response, but just then Latula’s voice came from over to the left. Porrim paused. She couldn’t quite identify the note in Latula’s tone, but it was tight with supressed emotion. Porrim frowned to herself and glided over.

Mituna was standing between Latula and Kurloz. Kurloz had one large hand on Mituna’s shoulder – a perfectly normal gesture between moirails – but there was something about the angle of Mituna’s stance that looked a bit off.

‘Hey Kurlz,’ Latula was saying. ‘It would be hella rad if you could just give us a moment. Tuna here was in the middle of a real sweet anecdote.’

Kurloz smiled at Latula and leaned forward over Mituna’s shoulder. ‘Sorry to barge in like this, but I just needed a quick word with my moirail. I’m sure you understand.’

Mituna was standing very still, exuding none of his usual restless energy.

‘That okay with you, Tuna?’ Latula asked. 

Kurloz’s smile slipped the barest fraction. Mituna was still for a long moment and then he shrugged.

‘You’re not interfering with quadrant corners, are you, Kurloz?’ Porrim asked as she came up. She stood behind Latula’s shoulder.

Kurloz’s eyes narrowed, but his smile stayed in place. His gaze roamed over her, a lazy appraisal of her tatts and piercings and outfit. There was something in his gaze that itched. It was like he was assessing her in pieces. ‘We’re all fine here,’ he said. ‘You and Latula probably want to catch up.’

Porrim ignored the unsubtle suggestion. ‘It sounded like Latula and Mituna wanted to catch up.’

Kurloz’s smile widened. There was something unsettling about the expression, though it might have been his latest face paint design. Then the itching feeling started up again. The sensation went from crawling under her skin to twisting through her think pan. It was a delicate caress that curled around her and drained the tension from her body. Porrim realised what it was. Her lips peeled back from her fangs and her skin flashed white as her rainbow drinker nature took over.

‘Get out of my pan,’ she growled. As she spoke she pushed back against that insidious, gentle touch. 

Her sudden change made Latula and Mituna back away. Kurloz merely blinked, rocking back as Porrim forced him out. It wasn’t a skill she’d had much cause to practice, but being a rainbow drinker made her strong enough to fight off unrefined chucklevoodoos.

Kurloz’s expression had changed completely. He took two fast steps into her space. ‘Interesting,’ he said softly. ‘Look what you can do.’

Porrim bristled. Her skin was still glowing and she was hyperaware of both her fangs and Kurloz’s pulse. ‘Back off,’ she said. The harmonics underlying her growl were the wrong kind of aggressive, inviting instead of repulsing. She should tell him she wasn’t interested. This was not how she liked to arrange caliginous flings. This was far too raw.

‘I don’t think I will,’ Kurloz said. He was smiling again, but it was edged and sharp. The expression twisted with his face paint, turning it into something sinister and intriguing. ‘Think you can _make_ me?’ he all but purred.

Stark hate rose fast and bitter in Porrim’s thoracic cavity. She could taste it in her protein chute. This never happened. Caliginous flings were about rivalry and teasing and having a bit of fun with someone who aggravated you. What Porrim was feeling right now came from deep down in the primitive part of her lobe stem. She wondered what Kurloz’s blood tasted like.

‘Uh, guys?’ someone else said. Porrim didn’t take a single fraction of her focus off of Kurloz. ‘I think they might need a middle leaf.’ Rufioh, it was Rufioh speaking.

One side of Kurloz’s mouth quirked up as his smile widened. His gaze stayed fixed on Porrim.

‘Ha! What kinda basshole would try to get between those two? Good bay to lose a limb, if you axe me.’ 

It seemed like they’d drawn an audience. Porrim could hear numerous blood pushers surrounding them. Her claws scraped gently at her palms as she clenched her fists. She’d never felt such a strong instinctive hatred. There was something magnetic and poisonous about these feelings. Maybe they did need a middle leaf. 

Then Kurloz tilted his chin up, just a fraction. He was testing the waters with pitch flirtation, letting her know that he didn’t see her as a threat and inviting her to prove him wrong. In that moment she knew anyone trying to auspisticise between them would be torn apart.

‘Sit down, Cronus,’ Meulin snapped. ‘Kurloz is acting purrity weird. Don’t pawther him right meow.’

‘My little kitty’s right. We don’t need a middle leaf. _Do we_?’ Kurloz said, directing the last part to Porrim.

‘No, we don’t,’ Porrim replied in a perfectly calm voice.

‘Are you sure you’re okay, Po-Mary?’ Latula asked.

Porrim tried to smile, but mostly ended up baring her fangs. Her eyes stayed fixed on Kurloz. ‘Quite sure. I think you and I should retire, Kurloz, and stop our friends from worrying.’

Kurloz drew a slow breath and released it, visibly controlling himself. ‘Yeah, I think we should. Your place. You’ll probably feel better on your home territory.’

Thick hatred flooded Porrim at the blatant pitch insult. As if she couldn’t handle being in his territory, as if she needed that kind of advantage! But he’d spoken first and there was no way to change the location without losing face. Porrim gave a grim smile and turned her back to Kurloz like it was nothing. Two could pitch-flirt like that and she’d had a lot more practice. 

‘Motherglubber,’ Meenah said softly. ‘Get a hiveblock, you two.’

‘Hey, rainbowbitch,’ Kurloz called out from behind her. Porrim was turning with a snarl on her lips before she even registered the action. Kurloz caught her eye and deliberately lifted his chin right up, displaying the long, supple line of his neck. Fury and something much stronger curled through Porrim. Her gaze was fixed on his pulse.

‘Lead the way,’ Kurloz said in a steady tone. Only the tension in the lines of his neck betrayed how hard it was for him to keep his throat bared to a rainbow drinker. It was almost impressive. Porrim shook herself and turned on her heel. Her hive wasn’t far. 

///

As soon as the door to Porrim’s hive shut behind them, she and Kurloz fell on each other. His claws ran up her sides, a hair away from tearing through her outfit. She bit at his mouth, tasting the greasepaint of his latest design and catching his fangs on her lip.

Porrim pulled away long enough to growl, ‘My couch is this way, come on.’ She tugged at his arm. 

They half-pushed, half-pulled each other into the right block. Even with the enhanced strength of a rainbow drinker, Porrim was finding it difficult to stand against Kurloz’s highblood strength. With previous caliginous partners, she’d never considered using her rainbow drinker instincts. Here, it was practically required to keep up.

Porrim shook off Kurloz for a moment in order to take off her dress. The material slid off her skin in a whisper-soft fall of silk. Kurloz eyed her hungrily, tracing the path of her tattoos with his gaze. He reached up to pull off his skeleton motif top and somehow avoided smearing his face paint. Dark annoyance rose in Porrim at the display and she watched him closely as he stepped out off the rest of his clothes, baring a surprisingly gangly build for all his highblood strength.

As they neared her concupiscent couch, she hooked one foot behind his foot-joint nub and tripped him down. He grabbed her reflexively and tried to twist around to get on top. She lashed out and managed to ram him in the thoracic struts with her horns. They weren’t quite sharp enough to tear, but the force concentrated down to two points was enough to unbalance him. They ended up half-sprawled on their sides. 

Porrim recovered first and grabbed her set of handcuffs. Kurloz was up a moment later and he eyed the restraints with amused disdain. ‘If you think I’m letting you tie me down, rainbowbitch…’ he trailed off with a shrug. Only the heat in his eyes betrayed his casual attitude.

The inside of the cuffs were padded and supple. Most of the time they were good for flush scenes or even the occasional bit of pale bondage. Once or twice she’d taken them out ashen. But that was only when she was middle leaf and one of the outer leaves was being unreasonable. She’d never considered bringing them out caliginously before. 

Porrim’s smile bared her teeth. She snapped one cuff around her right wrist and let the other cuff dangle free. She held out her other hand. ‘Give me your left,’ she ordered. 

Kurloz’s eyes had widened as she bound her wrist and now anger twisted the contours of his face paint into something even more sinister. Logistically, it made sense to be bound together on the outside and not across their bodies, but it was a delicious pitch insult to bind her dominant hand to his off-hand. He knew he couldn’t back down though. He offered his left hand with ill grace and Porrim’s smile deepened as she wrapped her fingers around his wrist and gave it an unnecessarily hard squeeze. 

He shivered under the pressure, but his eyes were locked with hers as she shackled him. As soon as the cuff clicked closed he jerked her forward. Porrim expected it, but he was strong enough that it didn’t matter. Their fangs clicked as they simultaneously attempted to bite. 

The taste of greasepaint made an idea rise in Porrim’s pan. Smearing his creepy face paint would be… satisfying. Porrim could imagine planting him facedown on her concupiscent couch and grinding his face against the surface. That would be good, but not quite satisfying _enough_. His paint must smear occasionally just through ordinary wear and probably didn’t bother him. No, she wanted to _deface_ it.

Porrim drew back from their kiss and took out her favourite jade lipstick. Kurloz watched her, bright-eyed, and one side of his mouth crooked up in an ugly smile. ‘I think you look just fine, but if you want to pretty yourself up more for me, I wouldn’t object.’

Porrim scowled and lunged at him. He dodged, but she was faster. The end of her lipstick skated drunkenly through his greasepaint, but it was enough to leave streaks of jade across his forehead and cheek. She recapped the tube with a smirk and put it away. When she looked back up at him her breath caught. 

Somehow, instead of detracting from his design, the jade highlights made it more menacing. It deepened shadows where there should be none and it looked like her blood was streaked across his face. Her blood pusher pounded and a dark pitch feeling flowered in her core. 

Kurloz looked incensed, but on seeing her response his expression cleared and a smile spread across his face like an oil slick. ‘Do I look good wearing your blood colour? I want it painted all over your body and mine.’

Porrim didn’t give him the satisfaction of a verbal reply to such horrible pitch-lines. She grabbed him by his hair, jerking up his bound wrist, and attacked his mouth. She was growling and it was completely involuntary. In response, a deep rumble started low in his thoracic cavity. She could feel it against her skin as surely as his fangs against her lip and the sweep of his tongue into her mouth.

Something pushed against her think pan. A surge of _hate/desire/fear_ washed over her, stealing the breath from her air sponges. Porrim snarled as she pushed back harder, trying to make it hurt. Kurloz winced, but his smile stayed where it was. 

‘I told you to stay out!’ Porrim snapped.

‘I can’t help it,’ Kurloz replied. ‘I’ve been riding your pan since we started trading bites and sometimes it pushes a bit further. What’s the matter, are you struggling to keep me out?’ 

‘Hardly. But I’m going to make it hurt every time you push at me.’

‘I look forward to it,’ Kurloz said and tilted down his chin.

Then he brushed his free hand down her thorax in a sweeping, possessive gesture that set Porrim’s fangs on edge. Then he palmed her bone bulge. His claws pricked at the sensitive underside of the twin bone plates. Porrim growled and seized his wrist with her shackled hand. She held it steadily against her as he rocked the heel of his palm against the top of her bulge. ‘If you even _think_ of trying to claw me up,’ she snarled at him.

‘Just a threat, rainbowbitch,’ he said. ‘Having you all clawed up like that wouldn’t be much fun for me.’

Porrim reached forward and traced the slowly widening slit of Kurloz’s bulge with her free hand. Her claw slid along the opening as softly as she could make it, even dipping inside where his flesh was flushed a deep indigo. Kurloz gave a half-choked growl and froze as he fought the instinct to either move into or away from the stimulation.

‘What’s the matter? No one ever touched your bulge like that?’ Porrim asked sweetly.

Kurloz’s thunderous expression was beautiful. ‘If you claw _me_ up…’

‘I know what I’m doing. This isn’t _my_ first caliginous fling.’ While being precisely accurate, Porrim carefully left out the part that this was the first fling she’d had where her hatred burned deep and pitch enough to taste.

‘Fling?! This is motherfucking serendipity! Don’t try and pretend you don’t feel it. We will bite and claw and ride the killing edge of pitch until we’ve wrung every last drop out of each other. Just try and tell me that’s not what you want, deepest hate.’

Porrim’s breath caught. It was an ugly, possessive proposition, but it fanned the flames of her hate. She could almost glimpse Kurloz’s much vaunted charisma. ‘I’m not having this discussion with you now,’ she said, flexing her claws incrementally and drawing a moan. ‘But we’ll negotiate later.’ 

Kurloz smiled like he’d won an argument. His shackled hand tugged at hers, just far enough to press against her abdomen. ‘Fine. But, lie back and I’ll show you how _I_ touch a bulge.’ Then he licked his lips in a slow, obscene gesture, smearing face paint and jade lipstick. 

Porrim’s bulge gave a hot, hard pulse and parted further at the mere thought of it. Leaning back went against her every pitch instinct, but it would put his hair and horns in comfortable range of her hands. A trade off, then. Porrim shifted up the concupiscent couch, but kept herself propped up against one wall of the block. Kurloz growled as she jerked their bound wrists.

Porrim spread her legs and made a sweeping gesture that indicated her body. ‘Well, go ahead,’ she said as imperiously as she could. 

Kurloz bared his teeth in a smile and hunched over Porrim’s lower half like a sinister shadow. His hair tickled her thighs as he bent lower and then he ran his tongue along the widening space between the plates of her bone bulge. 

Porrim hissed at the cool sweep of his tongue and buried her hands in the masses of his hair. She tugged reflexively and swore as his tongue twisted around and tried to get at the jade-flushed core of her bulge. A silent laugh shook Kurloz’s shoulders as he flicked and stabbed with his tongue. 

Porrim refused to give ground, even with Kurloz’s surprisingly effective touch. She untangled her grip and skimmed her claws down one of Kurloz’s horns, right to the bed. He let out a surprised snarl at her hard claws pressed against harder chitin. Here Porrim never had to be gentle. It wasn’t as if she’d be able to do any real damage, and she knew from experience that the vibrations were oddly disorienting if you weren’t expecting them. She wondered if it was doing anything to his chucklevoodoos.

Kurloz just licked her faster in retaliation. Porrim clenched her jaw against the stinging pleasure and used one of Kurloz’s horns to wrench his head around and change the angle. He tensed against her grip, but he didn’t have the leverage to pull back. A rumbling growl started in his thorax and Porrim wondered how much of that was her hand on his horn and how much was from the taste of her genetic material.

‘Alright, enough,’ she snarled, tugging Kurloz back to emphasis the point. He pressed a mocking kiss to her bulge before letting himself be pulled back. There was a trace of jade against his lips that didn’t come from her lipstick. Kurloz noticed her scrutiny and swiped it away with his tongue, his gaze locked onto her. 

Porrim tossed her head and tilted her chin down. Interest sparked in Kurloz’s eyes and he mirrored the action. They rammed their horns together, hard chitin clacking as they twisted and scraped against one another. The weird disorientation was heady and they bit at one another’s lips as their horns locked together and slid apart in increments. Porrim was almost dizzy with the psychic backwash of Kurloz’s chucklevoodoos and she forced her rainbow drinker instincts to rise harder in response.

She broke away so she could place her fangs against the pulse in Kurloz’s throat. A shudder ran through his body. ‘Motherfucking do it, rainbowbitch,’ he snarled at her. ‘Don’t tease like I can’t take it.’

Porrim could smell the blood beneath his skin. The rich purple scent blocking out any other stimulus. She didn’t do this pitch with partners. There was too much loss of control, too many conflicting instincts. As much as it burned her caliginous pride, Kurloz was probably right. He was a highblood and he could take it.

Porrim’s fangs sank into his neck. She angled away from the major blood tube, of course, but his blood still welled up against her fangs. The taste made her moan. Kurloz was clutching her hair and one of his long spindly hands was wrapped around her right horn. The noise he made was something between a whine and a growl, the sound buzzing against her fangs. Then he pressed her head downwards, baring the joint of her neck and thorax. His fangs bit into the joint, just sharp enough to pierce her skin.

A craze of pitch-pain impulses radiated from the bite and Porrim pressed up against Kurloz’s teeth and deeper into his neck. It was impossible to separate the sound of their growls as they clutched at each other and twitched. Kurloz tore his mouth away from her shoulder, but stopped himself from widening the wound. Porrim withdrew more slowly, pressing her tongue against the teeth-marks as she withdrew. 

Kurloz’s eyes were wide and her blood smeared his lips and chin. Porrim suspected she was similarly bedecked in purple. 

Kurloz brought his hand up and swiped his fingers across her chin and up the sides of her face, smearing his own blood. ‘You should smile more. It looks good on you.’

Rage and hate blossomed beneath Porrim’s thoracic struts. Her bulge ached, reminding her that she’d been ready to pail since before she’d even tasted his blood. She scratched down Kurloz’s thorax, leaving furrows of flushed indigo skin and palmed his bulge. He was wide and leaked slightly against her hand.

‘Are you ready?’ she asked.

Kurloz’s smile was a rictus. ‘Ready since I tasted the midblood jade of your bulge.’

Wasting no time, Porrim pushed Kurloz down to her couch with a burst of strength. He snapped at her and snarled, twisting to try and change position. They fought across the surface of the concupiscent couch. It was hard to tell who was stronger, but the element of surprise had given Porrim the edge. She ended up on top and quickly aligned their bulges until the bone plates ground against each over in an echo of their locking horns.

The numerous delicate tendrils beneath their bone bulges extended fully and wound together. Kurloz stopped struggling. ‘MotherFUCK!’ he yelled, arching up against her.

The air was thick with their combined caliginous pheromones and pitch-pain flooded through Porrim where they were tangled together. This was far more intense than her usual pitch encounters. Glorious sharp and inexorable pleasure pulsed between them and the stinging pain of their hate magnified it to a dizzying height. 

Kurloz twisted minutely beneath her. His expression was locked into an ecstatic grimace, but his eyes were fixed on hers and his gaze almost burned. His hands came up and clamped around her thighs. Porrim could feel blood seeping sluggishly from beneath his claws, slickening his grip. 

‘So strong, _messiahs_ that’s deep pain. Hate you, hate you _so much_. Need it, need more,’ Kurloz babbled. His psychic powers pushed at her with the force of his hate and desire. Resisting it made her fangs ache.

Porrim wanted to leer down at him, ask if she was his first caliginous partner, ask if he was all right and tell him it was okay if he was overwhelmed. Unfortunately she wouldn’t be able to able to hit the right note of sneering disdain. The feel of him was getting to her just as much and she could barely force words out past the sound of her growls.

‘You’re so fucking _loathsome_ ,’ she managed to snarl out through her fangs.

Kurloz’s sub-vocal growl surged in response and his claws flexed in her thighs. Porrim tossed her horns, widening her legs to press into his grip.

They were nearing the edge. Their bulges were slick with their combined genetic material and they were beginning to detach from each other. 

‘Get off me,’ Kurloz said. ‘We’re going to need a motherfucking pail.’

Porrim laughed. ‘It’s not drone season,’ she said, pressing him back with a hand against his front-strut. ‘We’re going to finish pailing right on top of you.’

A groan tore through Kurloz’s growl and he ground up against her, even though they were nearly disconnected. ‘Indecent, shameless, unquadranted heretic! You make a mockery of pailing.’

‘Do you want it or not?’ Porrim asked, fully prepared to grab a pail if necessary.

Kurloz closed his eyes for a moment. ‘Yes I fucking want it,’ he said in a quiet voice. ‘Let us motherfucking PAINT each other, rainbowbitch!’

There were a few more moments of breathless grinding as their bulges finally disentangled. Porrim sensed the familiar welling of material behind her bone bulge, built up during their pailing and ready to spill. With the way Kurloz bucked beneath her, he was probably feeling it too. A cascade of hormones ran through them both, wringing the last few drops of pitch-pain and signalling release.

Indigo-jade material splashed from them, drenching their bulges and Kurloz’s thighs. Kurloz groaned, attempting to toss his head even while prone. Hot pitch satisfaction rose hard and fast in Porrim. She leaned down and bit into his neck-thorax joint, tasting blood. Her arm was jerked up as Kurloz wrapped his arms around her body, holding her against him, and incidentally managing to get material all over her thighs as well. 

They lay there for a long moment as their emotions settled down and their bulges finished closing back up. Porrim shifted pointedly and tried to yank Kurloz’s arm up by the handcuff. He grudgingly loosened the death-grip of his left arm. ‘Unbind us,’ he ordered quietly. 

Porrim sneered, but did so anyway. The angle was getting uncomfortable for her too. She rubbed her wrist as she pulled back, then grimaced slightly at the slide of the genetic material between them. ‘I’m going to use the ablution block, you can join me during or after if you want.’ 

Kurloz struggled up to his elbows and gave her a long look. ‘I want you in my spade,’ he said bluntly. ‘What we have is serendipity and I’m not walking away from that.’

Porrim gave him a cool look. ‘My quadrants aren’t a static settled thing. That’s not how I do relationships.’

Kurloz scowled. ‘Tell me you didn’t feel it. Tell me that my blood on your tongue wasn’t the most hateful thing you ever felt.’

Porrim folded her arms and leaned one thorax-leg joint against the door support. Kurloz wasn’t entirely wrong about that. Even right after pailing, hate pulsed low in her body and all she wanted to do was hurt him again. Fuck. ‘Look. I’m willing to compromise. You and me, we’ll call this a quadrant. We’ll be each other’s spades and when the drones come knocking we’ll hand in that pitch-pail together.’

Kurloz was nodding, an infuriatingly smug look plastered on his stupid, smeared-up face.

‘But,’ Porrim continued, ‘I’m still going to pail whoever I want, pitch or flush. I won’t call that kind of fling a spade, but I’m not going to stop. You don’t like it, you know where the hive entrance is.’

Kurloz’s smirk had flattened into a scowl. ‘I don’t like it. I motherfucking _hate_ it,’ he said. ‘But that’s part of it, I guess. It’s like everything you do, everything you _are_ is some Messiahs-sent irritation to make me hate you more. You have yourself a deal, dear hate.’

Porrim nodded. ‘Good. It looks like even you can be right sometimes.’ She paused. ‘Deepest hate.’ It was the first time she’d ever used a quadrant-name. Kurloz’s stunned expression made it completely worthwhile.


End file.
